George prioritizes everything in his life within the context of his impending death. Teenage drama, eh?

But don’t expect him to hyperventilate about it. George does not exist in your typical boy-meets-girl mismatch romance, or else he’d be drenched in Hollywood hyperbole and broad comedy.

“The Art of Getting By” writer/director Gavin Wiesen errs on the side of understatement and coaxes naturalistic performances from his principals, who are given relatively smart dialogue and room to nurture their characters’ mild complexities and innate charms.

I’m OK with only the occasional clever witticism, because so few real teens utter them. They are an awkward people, high schoolers. George (Freddie Highmore) and Sally (Emma Roberts) are a smidgen wiser than their years, which only exacerbates that fact.

FILM REVIEW

’The Art of Getting By’

3 out of 4 stars

Rated: PG-13 for sexual content, language, teen drinking, partying

Cast: Freddie Highmore, Emma Roberts, Michael Angarano, Rita Wilson

Director: Gavin Wiesen

Run time: 84 minutes

They both come from broken families. They both feel alone, despite existing at opposite ends of the social spectrum. They both smoke cigarettes, which is how they meet, outside of their urban New York City school. George falls on the blame grenade, because what’s another mark on the troubled kid’s record?

Smoking is the least of his problems. His self-proclaimed fatalistic misanthropy means he sees no point in doing his homework, and therefore is on the verge of expulsion. He would rather tune out his teachers and doodle in his textbooks, filling the margins with his talent.

There’s nothing wrong with him that prescription medication, counselors or tutors can cure. Maybe, just maybe, Julia Roberts’ adorable-as-the-dickens niece can provide a little salve for his soul.

Now, Wiesen gets a lot of the small details right, avoiding the goth-jock-geek-princess stable of stereotypes, but embraces formula a little too closely at times, giving George and Sally self-absorbed parents, and having them skip school to eat noodles and see a movie in Chinatown. They’re cute, a word I don’t use lightly, or often, or without a little bile.

But Highmore and Roberts, able actors both, share small, truthful moments that have us quietly rooting for them to overcome their personal obstacles — a rival for her affections comes in the form of an older artist (Michael Angarano) who mentors George, but has the confidence to move when he doesn’t — and cultivate their sweet, youthful, naive, budding love.

One of those moments: She takes him to a party, where he drinks too much and ends up sleeping on her floor, and she catches him staring adoringly at her while she snoozes. Another: When she plainly states, “George, you think too much.” And this exchange:

“I’m allergic to hormones,” says George.

“What hormones?” Sally replies.

“Mine,” he confesses.

We’ve all been young and emotionally gawky, but our lives so rarely resemble a John Hughes movie. “The Art of Getting By” hews closer to what we recognize, close enough, we can deal with its flaws (it’s predictable; Sally could use a little more development).

Wiesen isn’t afraid to throw a dash of melancholy in with his idealism — but his tone is infectious enough that we, too, can momentarily forget about mortality when in the presence of a raised eyebrow and half-smile from Julia Roberts’ niece.